


They Have Teeth

by TheDarknessFactor



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: DW characters, F/M, Horror, Outlast AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:29:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarknessFactor/pseuds/TheDarknessFactor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melody stared at him for a few moments.  “Well,” she said at last.  “You fit in here just perfectly, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“What?  You don’t?”  The poor man sounded incredulous.  “Never met anyone here who doesn’t.”  As she turned to leave the Library the same way she came, he jumped in front of her, holding out a hand.  “I’m the Doctor, by the way.  Lovely to meet you, lady with the pretty hair.”</p>
<p>“Melody Malone,” she answered, shaking his hand.  He seemed relatively harmless.  “I’d say likewise, but you’re insane.”</p>
<p>“Oh, my dear, sweet, beautiful, stupid Melody,” he breathed, beaming.  He spun around and somehow managed to look like a giraffe while doing so.  “Aren’t we all?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Have Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> This is NOT FOR CHILDREN. Nope. Not at all. A lot of the things in here are a little extreme, but then it is Outlast. Basically, I stole the plot from Outlast, but used Doctor Who characters and added a few twists of my own. I'm not sure if this counts as Dark!Doctor or not, but just... go with it. 
> 
> For those of you familiar with Outlast, all I'm going to say is that I've replaced Miles Upshur with Melody Malone. 
> 
> For those of you unfamiliar with Outlast, you don't need to know the game to understand this story. In fact, I'd prefer you didn't; people who know the game are going to understand what's going on right away.

 

_“…department of agriculture Commissioner Jones said changing weather patterns are to blame for the behavior of certain livestock…”_

Melody snorted.  “If only Jones was able to get her head out of her arse, she wouldn’t have drowned in her own shit years ago.”

She listened to the newscaster droning on and on, feeling herself grow bitterer over the increasingly depressing headlines.  If those stories were considered ‘news’, then the stuff that the little rag where she worked put out should’ve been lapped up by society’s dogs.  Alas, most of the larger magazines were quick to shut them down as conspiracy nuts and paranoid wackos.  Melody was always careful when it came to documenting her stories, but it became tiresome after a while when you sold your soul for news only to have it shot down like a bloody turkey. 

This one, however… after reading the e-mail she’d received, Melody had felt some of the old excitement of an investigator pumping through her formerly stagnant blood.  Not that she fancied looking in on an old mental asylum (especially not one run by the Silence Corporation), but a story was a story.  Exposing banalities conducted in mental hospitals was a trend that had started ages ago; surely this time she wouldn’t be written off as a freak with an overactive imagination. 

Just to be certain, she’d run to the electronics store and bought herself a cheapo camcorder. 

Her stupor was rudely interrupted by static; her radio had cut out. 

Melody raised an eyebrow.  “Not the best location for an emergency response…”

The gates hung open for her; she rolled through them, but paused at the guard post in case she needed to check in.  There didn’t seem to be anyone home.  Still, her attempt at driving any further was stymied by the ticket bar being lowered.  With an impatient sigh, Melody grabbed her camcorder and looked over its functions.  Night vision — check.  Ability to record incriminating evidence against the Silence Corporation— check. 

As foreboding as Demon’s Run Asylum looked, Melody couldn’t suppress a thrill of anticipation.  Those bastards at the Silence Corporation might finally be getting their comeuppance, which was no less than they deserved.  At first sight it seemed as deserted as the guard post— which struck her as odd, considering that the e-mail she’d received had a send date of a week earlier.  The place didn’t exactly look as though a hurricane had ripped through it, but she couldn’t imagine it being very lively only a week before. 

_No cell service,_ she thought, _and no radio.  No way to communicate to the outside.  This place is officially upgraded from ‘suspicious’ to ‘just bloody wrong’ in my book._

Movement caught her eye very briefly— a shadow in one of the windows, the first sign of life.  Life was supposed to make people feel warm and happy inside, wasn’t it?  Because Melody mostly felt like someone had poured ice water down her spine. 

Still, the story was more important.  Melody was far too cynical to let a few shivers discourage her.

It turned out that there was a way in, after all.  It took some climbing (blimey, what was her contact thinking?  She wasn’t exactly a _monkey)_ , but eventually she clambered through one of the upper story windows, emerging in a room where the light bulb almost immediately sparked and went out. 

“Such a good sign,” she murmured. 

Part of her wished that she’d thought to bring a flashlight, but then again her stupid, _stupid_ brain had somehow convinced her that it would be some kind of bloody espionage mission— she’d pose as someone visiting a patient, give her escort the slip, and film everything she could before sneaking out again.  She hadn’t exactly given much thought to the ‘sneaking out’ part, but in her professional opinion (for what it was worth), the middle part was far more important.  Already her plan was turned upside down.

“This is why plans are rubbish,” she sighed.  “You go to all the trouble of making them when it turns out that you have to improvise anyway.”

So far the only thing she’d witnessed was scenes from Shutter Island.  Melody really hoped that it didn’t end the same way. 

She wandered through the halls, relieved to find that most of them were more lit than the room she’d just exited.  There were numerous creaks all around her, as though Demon’s Run itself was alive (she snorted inwardly).  She was just reaching the end of the hall when a door not five feet from her slammed shut. 

_Not unoccupied then._ Melody was almost disappointed.

God, what was with this place?  It would have looked almost pleasant if it weren’t for the fact that she’d already seen blood on the walls in several places.  Curiosity killed the cat.  Melody was really, really hoping that said cat had nine lives. 

She was forced to find another path to the main lobby by using the vents (really, could this get any more cliché?).  Melody was careful to use her camcorder to look pointedly at all the bloodstains, wanting to give her footage as much of a ‘Fuck you, Silence’ theme as possible.  Whatever had happened here was sure to finally sink their battleship. 

A door that was innocently marked ‘The Library’ looked to be the only room she could access from where she was at this moment.  It was ajar, something that she didn’t really like the looks of, but while it was true that she had gotten some not-so-viewer-friendly footage, most of it was stuff that readers could easily accuse her of photo shopping. 

She brazenly pushed the door open.

It almost didn’t hit her, at first.  The smell was what she really absorbed— the cloying scent of rotting meat.  Or at least, it seemed to be meat.  Until she finally realized that she was looked at a man hanging from the ceiling. 

Whatever it was suspended from, its weight was clearly too much for it because it hit the floor with a sickening thud. 

“Fuck,” she breathed.  Her gaze zeroed in on the badge that was barely visible on the man’s chest— security.  More curses flew from her mouth.  She was tempted to check to see if he was still alive, but she eventually registered that the man was missing his head.  In spite of the nausea rising in her stomach, she raised her camcorder shakily and made sure to pan over the oh-so- _lovely_ sight.  Reminding herself that a corpse could hardly hurt her, Melody stepped over it, moving further into the room and discovering that it was just what the label said: a library.  Each head told its own story, after all. 

She passed another body as she navigated through the room; her night vision was draining the battery, but she couldn’t help it.  In spite of how awful most of these things were, a part of her felt both triumphant and fascinated with it all.  Here at last was justification for her own hatred of the Silence Corporation.  People would finally be able to see what everyone already knew: that they were a bunch of fuckers that had screwed over one too many people in their miserable lifetimes. 

“Hey."

Melody flinched, whirling around and aiming her camcorder at whoever it was like a weapon.  She was greeted with a sight so bizarre that for a moment she was convinced that she herself was suffering delusions.  She blinked once, then twice.  Nope, it was still there.

‘It’ was a man.  Young, face a bit like a baby’s.  He was dressed like a wacky professor of some sort, complete with tweed and expensive-looking shoes.  Melody raised an eyebrow in disdain.  He looked far too neat to be in this setting. 

“Hey, look,” he said, giggling a bit.  She snorted, a more hysterical part of her thinking, _Who in their right mind_ giggles _in a place like this?_

The obvious answer was one of the inmates. 

He bounced past her, over to a man that made her stomach flip once again.  The man had been stuck like a pig with some great big pipe— only he’d been stuck long ways, from where his shoulder and neck met to his hip.  He let out a choking noise, reaching out one arm as though pleading with her to save him.  Melody could only stare, and record. 

“Hey,” said the young man again.  “This one’s still alive.  Imagine that.”

“Yes, imagine,” muttered Melody, eyeing him suspiciously. 

The dead man (for there was nothing she could do to help him) choked out, “They killed us.  They got out— the… the Variants.  You have to get the fuck out of here.  _Get the fuck out of this place.”_

Yeah, she’d seen all she needed to.  Getting the fuck out sounded good to her. 

“Oh, so _now_ he’s dead,” said the other man.  “’S almost a shame, really.  He’s the only one who might’ve stood a chance against Captain Jack.  Ah well.  Probably for the best.  Can’t have two big guys running around wreaking havoc, it’d be a nightmare.”

“What do you want?” Melody said bluntly. 

“Nothing!” the man exclaimed brightly.  “Well, maybe not nothing.  Some custard sounds delightful.  Or maybe a Jammy Dodger, I never say no to those.  I like your hair, by the way— it’s probably magic hair.  Do you use it instead of your wand, Hermione?”

Melody stared at him for a few moments.  “Well,” she said at last.  “You fit in here just perfectly, don’t you?”

“What?  You don’t?”  The poor man sounded incredulous.  “Never met anyone here who doesn’t.”  As she turned to leave the Library the same way she came, he jumped in front of her, holding out a hand.  “I’m the Doctor, by the way.  Lovely to meet you, lady with the pretty hair.”

“Melody Malone,” she answered, shaking his hand.  He seemed relatively harmless.  “I’d say likewise, but you’re insane.”

“Oh, my dear, sweet, beautiful, _stupid_ Melody,” he breathed, beaming.  He spun around and somehow managed to look like a giraffe while doing so.  “Aren’t we all?”

“I should hope not,” she replied, making to get around him once again, and once again failing, because he stepped with her.  She sighed in frustration, wondering just what his problem was.  All she wanted to do was leave, for god’s sake.  Maybe he was planning to eat her, or something.  Maybe he already had done, to the rest of the inhabitants. 

“Your work?” she asked, nodding to the heads lining the shelves.  It spoke volumes about how desensitized she was that she was able to keep her head (no pun intended) like that. 

He wrinkled his nose.  “Eugh, no.  Too primitive.  Ripping off heads is not cool.”

“I don’t think the coolness of it is the issue, sweetie.”  The nickname rolled off her tongue with surprising ease.  Maybe it was because he acted a bit like a puppy (a puppy that clearly had brain damage), or maybe she really did find him somewhat endearing.  She snorted at that thought; really, how ridiculous could she get?

She gave up on trying to go back the way she came and searched out another door, which led to the lobby again.  Melody breathed out a small sigh when she exited, but froze when she felt arms pulling her back into the shadows from behind and a voice at her ear. 

_“Don’t.  Move.”_

Some part of her must have forgotten to breathe, too.  Together, they watched a shadow of _something_ cross the hall to a door nearby, muttering to itself as it went.  She couldn’t make out much of it— merely that it appeared to be just another lunatic, wandering this godforsaken place.  Clearly it was dangerous, if the way the Doctor was acting was anything to go by.  As soon as the thing shut the door behind it, he released her. 

Melody swallowed a bit.  The intimacy of their position (in spite of the danger) had not escaped her notice.  She just hadn’t expected to be as affected by it as she was. 

She was quick to get moving again, her footsteps more cautious as she inched her way past the door that the… she guessed it must’ve been another person— went through.  She couldn’t hear any movement from behind it, so she presumed that whoever it was had been long gone. 

“Doctor,” she whispered, looking round to where he’d been standing, “who—?”

“Little Song,” came a casual voice. 

Melody felt all her limbs freeze up as something grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip.  For a brief moment, everything around her was a blur; the only thing she was able to catch was an unfamiliar face caught in a vicious sneer before her feet left the ground.  There was a very brief moment of resistance, then a sensation like several knives going through her coat and into her flesh.  She went down, down, down…

As Melody lay there, she distantly registered that getting thrown through a window down to the ground floor of the lobby had knocked some of the fear out of her.  Sure, her ears were still ringing, and she couldn’t quite seem to get that face out of her head, but other than that she felt a bit like someone who’d smoked pot one too many times in one day.  By the time she was finally able to crack her eyes open, she could see a flashlight being aimed in her direction, bobbing its way closer. 

_Here we go,_ she thought drily. 

“This is the part where things get interesting.”  It’s the Doctor’s voice, but it doesn’t elucidate much of a reaction from her in this state.  “Look at that.  It’s Loopy Amy.  Amy Loopy.  Whatever.  Take your pick.  Nice lady, that one.  She’s ginger.  Ah, what I wouldn’t give to be ginger, once in a while.”

Melody didn’t have the time (or the strength) to tell the Doctor that she did _not_ recommend that he die his hair red before Loopy Amy was kneeling next to her.  She blinked several times, still helpless to move as Amy thrust her flashlight in her face, examining her closely.  Amy wouldn’t have looked strange at all, were it not for the fact that she was wearing an eye patch and she appeared to have been ripping chunks of her hair out of her scalp. 

“Who’s this one?” Amy asked.  Scottish.  Melody rolled her eyes inwardly.  Scots went one of two ways; either they were fanatics in their beliefs of what she wrote, or they denounced it as Satan’s work.  “Another one?  They stopped delivering ages ago, I can’t imagine…”  She paused a moment, as though listening to the air.  “Oh, fine.”

She grabbed Melody’s camcorder. 

Suddenly Melody discovered (rather unpleasantly) that she still had some movement in her limbs.  She made a weak grab for it, but Amy danced out of her reach, apparently playing back the footage.  The transformation of her expression was almost comical to watch— from skeptical to surprised, to downright jaw-dropped.  She rushed back to Melody’s side, placing the camcorder there almost reverently and taking Melody’s hand in her own. 

Melody shivered.  It was a little bit like grabbing a fish. 

“We’ve been waiting for someone like you,” Amy breathed.  “And about bloody time,” she snapped to no one, glaring at the air around her.  “We were getting worried.  Running out of fresh meat soon, it’ll die off eventually; it’s not like we’ve got infinite reserves of supplies here.  We can’t let that happen.  You,” she snapped, index finger close to Melody’s nose, “listen up: you’d better stay alive.  Stay alive, and it might just be worth your while.”

Amy turned and hurried away through the shadows. 

“See?” said the Doctor.  “Nice.”

Melody forced herself into a sitting position, glaring at him.  “Are you just not noticeable by anyone else?”

“Just lucky, I s’pose.”  He preened.  “It’s probably the bow tie.  Bow ties are cool.”

Melody suppressed an eye roll.  “Yes, well.  You live here, yeah?  What’s the quickest way out?”

It was at that moment that Melody Malone— skeptic, investigative reporter who could barely stomach today’s society with all their vultures and depravity, who had seen far more than she’d been led to believe in her forty-seven or so years of life— witnessed a full-grown man _pouting_ at her. 

“No, come on,” he winged.  “You’re leaving?  Already?”

She stared at him incredulously.  “Did I or did I not just get thrown through a window by some ridiculously strong bloke who seems to want to kill me?”

The Doctor blinked.  “You did?”

Throwing her hands up, Melody grabbed her camera and stalked to the nearest door outside, tugging on the handle.  It wouldn’t budge; the same went for the other doors in the vicinity, all of which appeared to make up the main entrance to Demon’s Run.  With an annoyed sigh, she inspected the welcome desk.  Two dead bodies of security guards in their chairs.  One rather large pool of blood on the floor.  Really, it seemed more like the sort of place that Jack the Ripper would call home rather than a mental asylum. 

“So security must have put the place on lockdown,” she muttered.  And hopefully none of the patients were smart enough to figure out how to unlock it.  That reminded her— she had yet to see the body of another patient around here.  She found that somewhat troublesome. 

Melody felt rather than saw the Doctor staring at her, not moving from where she’d been lying.  She ignored him resolutely.  Much as she didn’t want to leave one of the well-lit rooms in the place, she forced herself to grow a pair and marched into one of the darker rooms.  Nothing fancy, really.  Several computer monitors, no internet service.  Another way that communication with the outside appeared to be impossible.  Oh, and there was another body.  Melody made a mental note to ignore all bodies from now on, as they seemed to be a rather common occurrence. 

For the hell of it (and because she needed the night vision) she started filming again, taking in all the details and occasionally writing things in her little notebook as she searched for a security terminal.  A glance behind her every so often told her that the Doctor was following her, though he seemed to be keeping his distance.  Huh.  He’d never had a problem with bothering her before. 

Melody’s quest to find the security console meant finding a key, first.  Unfortunately.  It also meant that she finally encountered living, breathing psychos other than the Doctor, the man she was dubbing bloke-who-threw-me-out-of-window, and Loopy Amy.  Fortunately for her, however, none of them seemed to have any interest in her; they simply stared up at the telly, which showed nothing but static anyway. 

“They made things called ‘Weeping Angels’ here,” came the Doctor’s voice, once again right in her ear. 

Melody swore, jumping away from him.  She’d just been about to take the key card needed from another dead security guard; her hand fumbled with it due to her distraction, but she eventually managed to get a firm hold on it, tugging it loose.  The Doctor, to her surprise, helped her free it from the corpse, his hand exactly the opposite of the way Amy’s felt.  He didn’t even protest when she drew away from him after a curt nod of thanks, heading back the way she’d come. 

There was the fact that Demon’s Run was just plain creepy, and then there was the fact that it didn’t do her particular psyche any favors.  The asylum was more than just a dilapidated loony bin— it was like it existed purely to play on her childhood fears.  There was debris everywhere, cluttering up the hallways and rooms.  She often had no choice but to crawl through tight spaces, and she could feel her inner, tiny little Melody screaming at her to thrash, to howl in fear at the prospect of getting trapped.  Melody Malone had gotten over those fears long ago, so she pushed on.  Survival was more important at that point anyway. 

One of the patients that she’d passed on the way to the keycard was slumped over in a wheelchair, reminding her of one of the ancient promotional fliers that she’d looked at before going to Demon’s Run.  It had showcased a patient in just such a wheelchair with a happy smile on his face, while his attendant leaned casually against chair, also smiling.  She figured out that the happy man in the wheel chair was just a lie when the one she passed tried to bloody throw himself on her, sobbing. 

The attendant was more than likely dead. 

“So,” the Doctor said, sounding casual.  “Now that you’ve got your security thingy—“

“Keycard.”

“That, whatever— will you stay?”

Melody raised an eyebrow.  “Honey, the whole point of getting this was so that I could _leave._ ”

“I don’t get it.”

Melody wanted to scream at him.  To shake him by his fragile little shoulders and tell him that she didn’t intend to die here.  Screw them all— she was going to take what evidence she had and get the hell out before whatever had happened to all those security guards befell her too.  She wasn’t about to let her head sit on a shelf next to other gruesome, twisted faces. 

However, she chose not to yell at him— he’d only pout at her again, which would only serve to make her feel guilty (though why in god’s name she would feel _guilty_ about leaving this horrid place escaped her).  She settled for huffing and sweeping onward, casting one brief look back at the man in the wheelchair, who was now laying on the floor like a slug.  More than likely it was his only defense. 

“…even I have to admit, she probably shouldn’t have started tearing her hair out.  Mind you, she only ever did when she was yelling, ‘It’s angry with me’ at the same time.  Poor Amelia Pond.  No one ever knows what she’s talking about, but the other lunatics ‘round here flock to her like sheep.  They must be afraid of the Scottish-ness.  But really, what a waste.  Her hair was ginger.  Ginger!  I may have stolen a clump or two— after she’d ripped it out, of course.  Be impolite to just take it from her scalp.”

Melody didn’t have anything to say to that. 

The Doctor continued to hover over her even as she sat down in the chair in the security room, typing out the procedures for unlocking the doors.  She held her breath, hoping she’d be able to let it out in just a moment—

“Hey look,” the Doctor said suddenly, pointing at one of the monitors again.  “It’s Loopy Amy again.  Hello, Loopy Amy.”

Indeed it was.  What was more alarming, however, was the fact that she glanced straight up at the camera before placing her hand on a switch and wrenching it downwards.  Melody didn’t even have time to swear before she was plunged into darkness. 

***

Hiding in a locker had once again forced her to change her perspective.

Almost as soon as the emergency lighting had flickered on, the Doctor had shoved her into one and slammed the door closed, his breathing shaky.  She could feel the apprehension building in her gut, for once able to completely ignore her claustrophobia.  Maybe her body recognized the greater threat this time around and decided not to give her a panic attack.  Thank god. 

Eventually, the reason for the Doctor throwing her in the locker became clear. 

There was the sound of familiar muttering growing closer, making her shrink against the back of the locker.  The door to the room was shoved open unceremoniously, revealing an all-too-familiar face that seemed to be looking right at her. 

Once, he might’ve been considered handsome.  That effect was ruined by the fact that his lips seemed to be pulled back from his teeth, revealing a smile-that-wasn’t.  His hair hung in clumps, and the massive overcoat he wore only served to increase how intimidating he was.  Melody recognized his accent easily enough as an American one, but that was the least of her worries.  Whoever the man was, he was muttering about the ‘Little Song’, which she keenly remembered as the name he’d used to address her— before he’d thrown her through a window. 

With slow, measured steps, he made his way to the locker next to her, opening it and staring blankly ahead for a moment.  “You were here,” he mumbled.  “I know you were.  I have to find you.  Have to contain it.”

Melody didn’t realize she was holding her breath until his ramblings finally faded away.  She stepped out of the locker with caution; she _really_ didn’t want to know what he would do to her if he did find her. 

“That would be Captain Jack,” said the Doctor.  She started at his tone of voice, looking at him in surprise.  It was the first time that he’d sounded remotely angry about something.  His glare as he stared at where Jack had left was dark, and it made Melody go cold.  She wondered if she needed to reassess just how dangerous the Doctor was.  “Persistent little bugger.  Well, I say little— not really that little, as you could see.”

“An American,” she replied dubiously.  “In a British loony bin?”

The Doctor’s glare faded, and he shrugged.  “I don’t make the rules.  Rules are rubbish anyway.  No point having keep out signs when no one’s going to listen to them anyway.  No point in telling people not to kill other people when the people that they’re telling that to are going to kill people anyway.”

“Have you ever killed anyone, Doctor?”  The question left her without her permission, hanging in the open air. 

He looked her right in the eye.  “Yes.”

Melody only nodded, hoping that he wasn’t going to have some sort of fit and try and stab her while she wasn’t looking.  She made an impatient noise in the back of her throat and peered into the now pitch-dark hall, keeping an eye out for any sudden movements.  She felt a bit like a tiny mouse trying to sneak its way through a house full of cats, any one of whom might decide to tear her apart on a whim. 

The only thing that she could conclude was that Amy didn’t want her to leave.  She couldn’t fathom why that was; Amy had told her to stay alive, and in Melody’s opinion the best way to do that would’ve been to get out of the asylum as quickly as possible.  Now, with the main power cut, that wasn’t an option unless she found some way to turn the power back on.  Making her way through Demon’s Run— big scary building full of lunatics who ripped off each other’s heads— with the lights on was one thing.  Making her way through it in the darkness was another matter entirely. 

“There ought to be generators in the basement,” said the Doctor.  “That’s probably where Amy was just now.  Come on.”

He bounced ahead of her, looking more like a child at a zoo than a patient at a mental hospital.  Melody sighed and followed; she guessed that that was the point. 

She wasn’t sure if what she was feeling was her body’s ‘survival mode’ or something else, but while she was afraid (there was a sensation in her gut akin to ice), she was also more focused than she had been in a long time.  She was prepared to bolt at any given moment; her eyes were searching left and right for the reassurance of possible weapons that could be used.  Before coming here, Melody Malone would have thought twice before using a ripped off toilet seat to bash someone’s head in.  Now, she wouldn’t have to think about it at all.

As it turned out, she didn’t really have to worry about hiding from inmates.  The Doctor always seemed to know when something was coming, and was always quick to get her out of sight before it found her.  Twice more they nearly ran headlong into Captain Jack, who still seemed to be looking for her.  Never once did he stop muttering to himself.  They had a close encounter with a smaller man sporting a crowbar, who alternated between screaming at nothing and giggling. 

“I never did explain the Weeping Angels to you, did I?” asked the Doctor.

“No, you didn’t,” Melody replied.  Not that she particular wanted to know, but she suspected he would have told her anyway. 

“A while ago, they were doing—“ he leaned towards her, lowering his voice to a whisper, “ _experiments.”_

Melody was unimpressed.  “That would be why I’m here, sweetie.”

He ignored that.  “There was one group of patients who all became different from the others after the experiment.  They’d always know instantly when someone was watching them.  And after a while, they became so afraid of being watched that they’d stop moving altogether.  Just freeze where they were, like it could save them from being torn apart.  Didn’t fool Jack, of course— at least not later— but a good many others believed it.  And yet, when no one’s looking… that’s when they go after you.  Mostly they just jump on you from behind, try to tear your throat out with their teeth.”

Melody grimaced. 

“Sometimes, though, they cling to you.  They don’t hold on tight enough to suffocate you, but they never let go.  Never seen anyone dislodge one before.  Then they wait, until whoever it is finally gets tired and stops struggling.  But even then they won’t let you go.  They’ll just cling to you like a leech.  They’re so used to staying still for long periods of time that it doesn’t affect them, but you… if you’re not mad already, you will be.”

Melody wondered if he was making it up.  She hoped that he was, but the rest of her had a sinking feeling that it was the truth.  The Silence were easily horrid enough to try something like that.  What was more frightening for her was that it was even possible, and that it was done to human beings without hesitation.  She was too old and had done too many stories to make her all that optimistic about the human condition, but this brought her opinion of her species down to a new low. 

“I’m guessing you’ve seen these effects before,” she said.  _Or perhaps he suffered from them._

He shrugged.  “Once or twice.  Maybe three.  Memory’s always been a bit cluttered.  It’s what happened to Captain Jack, though.”

Melody frowned at him.  “Captain Jack is easily older than you.”  She went back to perusing the darkness, looking for the button she needed to find.  “He would’ve had to have been incarcerated here very recently if you saw this happen to him.  Must not have affected him much, though; he seems no more a lunatic than anyone else in this place.  Myself excluded.”  _I hope._

The Doctor seemed to know her last thought, eyeing her thoughtfully.  “You mean you haven’t figured it out yet, Melody?”  Without warning he whirled and slammed his hand on the button; she jumped, glaring at him as she realized that he’d known where it was the whole time.  She didn’t have much time to be angry with him, as he soon hustled her under a nearby bed while another of the inmates came to investigate the sudden noise.  “Not everyone here was committed,” he breathed in her ear, before he slid away from her. 

Melody resisted the urge to call after him— Crazy Number Three (complete with wrench) was still looking around the room, and _sniffing_ , for god’s sake.  The darkness seemed to swallow the Doctor up, soundlessly and all the more deadly for it. 

When Number Three finally left (she supposed that the smell of piss covered her up), she straightened only to find that the Doctor had gone.  This left her to make her way out of the derelict basement herself, which turned out to be not that difficult, though she encountered something strange on her way out.  Or at least, it was strange even for an abandoned asylum. 

“No, no, I… know, I know.”  It was a man, like many of the others there.  It struck her as odd that the only woman she’d seen around Demon’s Run had been Amy, but she didn’t have much time to dwell on that.  Whoever he was, he had dirty blond hair, even dirtier hands, and something of a wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly air about him.  It was an unusual enough trait to encounter in a place like this. 

He appeared to be talking to thin air. 

“Erm… hi,” he said suddenly, looking around.  Melody pressed back into the shadows, holding her breath— he couldn’t have seen her, could he?  There was no way. 

“It’s alright,” he continued.  “I’m… I’m not dangerous, not like them.  Not really.  Well, I suppose I could be, if I wanted to.  But not right now.  I know you’re there, just… come and talk to me.”

Melody’s hand closed around a loose brick as she slowly emerged from the shadows.  _He_ was the one who jumped at the sight of _her_ , though, his gaze immediately flying to the brick that she held.  He gave her a sheepish smile, but not before he nervously glanced at the brick several more times.  Melody decided that the wise decision was to _not_ drop it, no matter how harmless he appeared to be. 

“I’m with Amy, I’m… Amy’s.”  He looked at his right with a frown.  “Right?”

It looked as though he had the same delusion, too— talking to someone who wasn’t there.  He must’ve gotten reassurance from whoever it was, because he looked back at her after a moment.  “Yeah.  I’m definitely Amy’s.”  He looked oddly pleased with himself at that.  “Anyway, she sent me to tell you that you can’t leave yet.”

Melody’s grip on the brick tightened.  “I’d like to see her try to stop me.”  She wasn’t much of a fighter, but she was stronger than she looked. 

“She’s waiting,” he added quickly.  “Outside the security control station.  With a syringe.  She knows that you’re going to go back there, and she isn’t going to let you open the doors.  She told me to tell you that if you go to the padded cells you might find some answers there.  If you don’t, well…”

“She’ll drug me and drag me there herself?”  It sounded plausible.  “I don’t want any more answers.  I have more than enough, thank you.”

“It’s more than just Jack, you know,” he burst out, just as Melody turned to go.  She cursed her natural curiosity, pausing.  “He’s not the only one here that you should know about.  There are some things here that you wouldn’t even be able to imagine, and Amy wants you to know about them.”

“Like what?”

He hesitated, but only for a moment.  “Like the Valeyard.”

Without warning the man winced, as though it physically pained him to say that word.  Melody stared, reluctantly intrigued even as he stumbled away from her, mumbling apologies.  “I… I need to go.  Sorry.”

And with that, he ran.

Melody watched him go.  The way that he moved seemed to speak that he was somewhat at war with himself, and it mirrored her own mind at that very moment.  She wanted to leave, _needed_ to leave before this place chewed her up and spat out… she didn’t even want to think about it. 

On the other hand, however, if there was even more at work here than she’d originally suspected… then she’d just been presented with an opportunity that could make or break her story.  It could end the Silence forever, which she was only too happy to do.  After all, the company had had a bloody good time of it carting her around from place to place when she was a child, using her as a sympathy gain in order to maintain their reputation.  It was too easy for orphans to go missing these days.  Whenever the scrutiny that fell on them became too much, they brought her out and paraded her around as the executive’s lovely, innocent daughter.  Immediately all the paparazzi would be contrite about their investigations.  None of them ever looked close enough to see the blank look on the child’s face. 

Melody shook herself.  She could not afford to go to her own dark place now.  Her personal hell had frozen over years ago.  This hell was a bit more real, and it needed to be dealt with. 

With a long breath, she changed her plans.  She would go to the padded cells and investigate further.  She would hear what else Loopy Amy had to say.  Then she would get the hell out of there. 

Easier said than done. 

***

Her name used to be River.

It was the name that the Silence gave to her, though, when they took her from the orphanage.  They didn’t even tell her that they were going to start calling her that— they simply addressed her as ‘River’ from the moment she was adopted.  It was every child’s secret fantasy to be spirited away from the home, but she learned fast.  She put on a mask and didn’t scream, didn’t shout, didn’t pout, and didn’t complain.  They never hurt her.  They fed her well enough.  They gave her things to do when she wasn’t their model child: books to read, dolls to play with (she preferred the books). 

They did not, however, let her into contact with other people.  Ever.

Eventually, Melody did what she had to.  She rescued herself, got a shoddy job as a cashier in a tiny little store, and created her own life from scratch.  The Silence didn’t exactly go out of their way to look for her, so she figured that they didn’t see her as much of a threat.  However, as she met more and more people and learned of everything the Silence was capable of, she saw more and more just how much damage they’d done to her mind.  She hated them for it, but she’d never been so foolish as to go on a full-on vendetta against them.  This was the closest she’d come. 

So far, she was regretting it. 

“I think I’d like her tongue.”

Melody whipped around.  “Excuse me?”

The man acted as though he didn’t hear her.  “Also, her liver.”

“I think we could get them,” said another man, next to him.  The bars that were holding the two back did nothing to stop their gazes boring into her.  “It would be easy.  She isn’t a fighter.”

“Amy said we shouldn’t.”

“Yes.  We respect Amy.”

“Here’s a thought,” hissed Melody.  “How about you leave me alone?”

The first one blinked.  “I think she’s speaking to us.”

“I think that that’s of no consequence.  She should be thanking us.  Either we get her now, or Captain Jack rips her limbs off one by one.”

“Just her tongue and liver.  We’d let her keep everything else.”

“Oi!  Van Baalens!  Do me a favor and get your sorry arses somewhere else.  If you want feeding that badly go cut up one of the crazies in the padded cells.  They’ve still got meat on them.”

Melody never thought that she would be happy to see Loopy Amy, but in that moment she was.  One of the Van Baalens pouted at Amy.  “But we bet that her liver’s prettier than one of theirs.”

“Yes, it probably is,” agreed Amy.  The nervous man from before was hurrying after her, looking from side to side.  “But I think you’ll find that most people actually _need_ their livers to survive.  At least, you would know that if you’d bothered to watch any of your other victims thrash to death before running off to add it to your collection.”  Turning to Melody, she added, “They keep heads and other objects in the—“

“Library,” Melody finished, glancing at the two brothers.  “I’ve noticed.”

Amy huffed.  “Well, come on then!” she insisted.  “Don’t bother wasting time on these bozos.”  She paused, cocking her head to the side.  “Really?  Well, sure.  Take them off my hands.  Yes, I know that.  For God’s sake— they _were_ useful, now all they do is eat bloody livers.”

She whirled around with a dramatic flair, even as both of the brothers quailed. 

“Wait—!”

“Please, you can’t—“

Melody couldn’t help it.  She turned her head, just in time to see them being dragged back by something, screaming and clawing as the shadows swallowed them whole.  She felt a shiver of fear when she looked at Amy again, wondering what sort of power she held over the inmates that she was able to do that.  She noticed that the look on the face of Amy’s… friend had changed, from nervous to utterly adoring. 

_Oh good lord,_ she thought, the realization hitting her in the face.  _They’re shagging._

It was the least romantic setting she could think of.  She began noticing other things as well, such as the fact that Amy’s hand was wrapped around the man’s as she all but dragged him behind her.  It was almost adorable, and Melody had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.  Amy had just somehow managed to punish the two brothers without lifting a finger, and she thought she was _adorable?_   Melody snorted.  The air in Demons Run must’ve been doing something to her head for her to have those kinds of thoughts about a woman who was clearly murderous and her boyfriend. 

“Rory told me about your meeting,” Amy said suddenly.  “Thanks for the show of faith.  Course I was just going to haul you down here myself, but then there’d be the risk that someone would try to rip both our innards out.  The inmates all love the idea of cutting you into pieces, no matter what I say to them.”

“And that’s normal, I suppose.”

“More or less,” Amy replied, completely missing Melody’s sarcasm.  “Come on, I’m sure the Captain’s figured out where you are by now.  He’s one of the _other_ side— can’t have him getting to you.”

The three of them made their way through the dark as quickly as they could without tripping over anything.  Melody noticed that there were bodies of inmates, not security guards, here.  She listened to the sounds around her: the hoarse shouts from some inmates, the repeated ‘thunk’ of one man who did nothing but bang his head against the wall on the level below, and the occasional scream.  Whenever they passed a lighted area, Amy’s hair seemed to light up like a beacon in spite of the chunks ripped out. 

“In here,” Amy told her, indicating a room that seemed to have stacks of files piled in it.  Melody stepped inside, but made it no more than a few steps before Amy slammed the door shut behind her. 

“NO!” Melody yelled, throwing herself against the door, but it was useless; she heard the telltale ‘chink’ as Amy locked it. 

“I’m sorry,” Amy called through it.  “But I still can’t let you leave, and at least this way you should be safe in here.  And you can find out everything you need to know.  I promised him that much.”

“Promised who?” asked Melody shakily; she was going to be spending the next few hours in _this_ (tiny, cramped, suffocating) room.  No no no, she needed to get out before she broke down. 

_(Maybe this is what they want.  Maybe they want you to go crazy, so that you can become like them and make this place your home.  Maybe they want you to be trapped in this hellhole until you lose all desire to escape from this place.  Maybe Amy is going to make you a part of her army, a part of the group of inmates who follow her every command blindly.)_

“I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to say anything else,” Amy whispered.  Melody strained her ears, but she heard nothing more and guessed that Loopy Amy had left.  It took all of her willpower to muster her emotions and force herself to calm down and look at things rationally.

There had to be a way to pick the lock; she’d find one in time.  For the moment, her mind was drawing a blank, but Melody theorized that that was fine.  In the meantime, she didn’t have anything better to do aside from exactly what Amy suggested: go through the files, see what she could find out about Demon’s Run.  She gripped her hands more tightly to keep them from trembling and squeezed her eyes shut when the walls started to close in on her. 

“You are Melody Malone,” she whispered to herself.  “You are Melody Malone and you _will_ get a bloody grip on yourself.”

So she did.

She grabbed the nearest pile of files, threw herself into the swivel chair in the center of the room and started leafing through them, examining each one for names that she recognized.  At one point she paused when she saw the name “Jack” and looked at the sheet of paper more closely, frowning as she read.

_… the orders of Jack Harkness, the head of security, more guards were placed on shift each night after a series of mysterious deaths in the lower levels, wherein several soldiers were killed by an unknown.  Not much remains of the bodies._

She put the sheet down, feeling ill.  Jack Harkness wasn’t an inmate at all— he was the former head of security. 

Melody remembered the Doctor’s words about Jack Harkness, that he’d been attacked by a Weeping Angel.  _Jack’s not fooled by them._ Well, he wouldn’t be, not anymore.  Not since he’d been driven insane by one.  Melody remembered the Doctor telling her that Weeping Angels never let go of their victims, so then how had Jack managed to escape?  She didn’t see anything clinging to his back when she encountered him. 

She read more of the report, but found it interesting for other reasons as well.  Mysterious deaths, it seemed, were not uncommon at the asylum.  In fact, they happened frequently according to many of the papers.  Melody read one longer one that detailed the outright disappearances of five of the female inmates.  Their bodies were never found, but apparently they had all been acting strangely a few days before they vanished.  Writing blood messages on the walls because they weren’t allowed markers. 

Melody had to look away at the description of one tearing her wrist open with her teeth.  The young woman’s name was Clara Oswald.  Apparently her delusion was that she was a monster whose job was only to kill, but that had changed in her last few days among the living.  She seemingly broke out of it, begging the attendants to let her run from the place.  Either that, or she was begging to attendants to run away themselves.

She picked up another stack and began to riffle through this one as well.  _Rory Williams._ Committed for being convinced he was a Roman soldier.  The poor man looked unassuming in the photo of him. 

Finally, after what seemed to be hours of searching, Melody found the name she had been looking for.

_Amelia Pond._

As she read the first few sentences, her fists clenched until they turned white.  Melody felt her heart rate increase and suddenly felt the urge to smash something.  Preferably the skulls of everyone on the board for the Silence Corp. 

_Amelia Pond was committed to Demon’s Run at the age of nine for believing that she had a friend called ‘The Raggedy Man’._

The age of nine.

_Nine._

Melody remembered following a tall man in a suit out of the home.  She remembered being shut in a dark room and told to keep quiet.  She remembered just how blinding the light was when they finally let her out, dressing her in a frilly gown and tying a bow just a bit too tightly in her hair.  She remembered staring at the grassy venue of the Silence Corporation’s front lawn, and not really seeing it.  She remembered being convinced that the room they put her in was going to eat her.  Or that they would just leave her in there forever.

But this… she couldn’t even _imagine._ God. 

Nine years old, and being submitted to electroshocks.  Having attendants crowd her every day.  Putting her in a padded cell when she became violent, which she did whenever they tried to tell her that her Raggedy Man wasn’t real. 

Melody thought she was going to throw up. 

This was it, she realized.  This was what she really needed for her story.  She almost didn’t want to print it, but she had everything that she needed right here— documents, photographs, case studies.  Proof that the Silence had abused a child for their own needs.  Little Amelia Pond, who stared back at the camera with a look on her face that was all too familiar to Melody. 

She wondered if Loopy Amy would hate her for printing it. 

Melody jumped when there was a loud knock on the door.  She quickly stuff the papers into her jacket, moving over to the door and guessing that Amy had come back.  “I’ve seen all I need to,” she called through the door.  “Will you let me out now?  I know what they did, Amy.  I want to help you.”

There was a pause, then: “You’re not one of them, are you?  I saw you get locked in here.  Are you alright?”

Melody held her breath.  The voice was unfamiliar, but definitely male. 

“…yes,” she answered cautiously after a moment.  “I’m sorry, I don’t—“

“Want me to get you out of there?” the voice asked.  “I think I’ve got a spare key on the ring.”

Melody felt hope rising in her again.  She was starting to feel the size of the room get to her again.  “Please,” she called. 

Another pause, then the door swung wide, revealing a short, balding man with a strange tattoo on the side of his face.  Before Melody could offer her thanks, he said, “You’ve made the right choice, my dear.”

She didn’t see the blow coming.

***

_Fuck._

That was about the only word Melody was capable of thinking of in her half-drugged state.  She tugged on her restraints, but she couldn’t muster much strength; her muscles were too sluggish.  The word kept repeating itself every time she and the man (who also claimed to be the doctor, but she got the feeling it was in more of the generic sense) passed another of his ‘patients’— in other words, someone who was begging him to kill them.  One man had clearly had his genitals removed and was sobbing quietly to himself. 

“You weren’t putting your tongue to any use anyway,” the doctor told another, who was writhing on a stretcher.  “Though in truth I didn’t feel like licking my own stamps.”

_Fuck._

Melody could barely believe she’d fallen for it.  She’d seen what kind of place this was; what possessed her to believe anything that came out of anyone’s mouth?  She blamed her own panic and claustrophobia for making her so eager to get out of that room, but ultimately what it came down to was that she was stupid.  Amy had told her that she would be safe in there, and she had to admit that the redhead had a point. 

“So, you’re the one that Loopy Amy has been obsessing over lately,” sighed the doctor.  “Terribly rude of her not to introduce you to the rest of us.  It’s not productive, what she does, you know.  The poor girl has half of the inmates wrapped around her little finger and she doesn’t even know why.”

Melody was still too sluggish to respond vocally.  _Fuck._

She assessed what she knew: she was in a wheelchair.  She was restrained to said wheelchair.  She was being taken somewhere into what appeared to be the section of the asylum that constituted the doctor’s office.  She was drugged, her senses somewhat dulled but returning quickly.  She still had the records of Amelia Pond in her jacket. 

She was deep, deep in a pile of shit right now.

“Here we are,” said the doctor.  “We’ve so much work to do, you and I.  The economy here certainly needs improvement, so I’ve been thinking about a new investment.  You’ll do nicely, I believe.”

He centered the wheelchair in the middle of the room, moving over to where an assortment of tools hung.  It was almost too surreal to be frightening; Melody felt as though she’d been placed in some sort of slasher film.  But the reality of her situation was beginning to affect her, as the drug wore off even more. 

“It’s an unusual hierarchy, here,” the doctor continued, even as he pulled down a scalpel and made his way back over to her.  “Well, perhaps not unusual.  Believe it or not, most of the insane see more clearly than most in the outside world.  The weak respect the strong.  Loopy Amy is strong because anybody that she doesn’t like has died or disappeared over the years.”

He seemed to consider her, then the scalpel, before sighing and taking the scalpel back.  “That friend of hers, Rory, is probably the only exception, but everyone knows that he’s under Amy’s protection, so no one dares to touch him.  I’m considered strong because I don’t give my patients the chance to fight back.  It’s remarkably easy.”

This time he brought over something resembling a meat cleaver, before evidently deciding that it didn’t satisfy him either.  “Then again the smart ones know how to hide.  The Weeping Angels, for example.  No one ever expects them, but then you blink.  You see, here the weak serve a purpose again.  Doesn’t that make you happy?  To serve a purpose?”

He grabbed an enormous pair of shears, then moved so fast that Melody almost didn’t see it.  Her vision darkened to red as all-encompassing pain hit her right hand, and she became aware of someone’s screaming ripping the room apart.  Something wet and warm dripped onto her trouser leg, and in her shock she barely noticed when the same thing happened to her left hand. 

“Please don’t pass out, my dear.  You need to pay attention.”

She couldn’t.  She couldn’t look but she couldn’t look away and _oh god,_ her hands, what the fuck had he done to her hands?  _Fuck._ Melody couldn’t seem to stop screaming; looking only made her feel worse as the liquid dripped down onto her palms, onto her legs, onto the floor where it provided a backsplash of color over the grays of this place.  She didn’t even notice when the doctor left the room, taking his shears with him.  She could only stare at what he done.

Tears of agony dripped down her face as she sat there, gasping for breath.  Passing out seemed like a good option at that point, except that someone was calling her name then.  Melody registered that she was most likely going into shock.  Whoever it was, they crouched down in front of her and cradled her face, so gently that she could’ve wept again.

“Melody, oh god.  _Melody.”_

The Doctor.  She recognized the eyes.  He looked as though he was in almost as much pain as her. 

“Melody,” he whispered again, leaning forward and smattering kisses on her face.  “I got here in time, please say I did.  It’s going to be alright.  I promise you.  It’ll be alright.”

He released her from the chair and held her to him when she collapsed onto his chest, her breathing uneven.  He didn’t seem to be able to stop touching her, his hands first smoothing across her back, then digging into her hair, then gradually prying her hands open so that they wouldn’t clench up. 

Reality seemed to come back to her as she stared at her hands.  The right one was missing her ring finger.  The left was missing the index. 

That freak had just fucking _cut off her fingers._

“I need to get out of here,” she gasped, stumbling to her feet.  She managed to get to the sink before she vomited, but up it came.  The Doctor was holding back her hair, watching her with a blank look on his face.  She almost feared it, though; there was something in his eyes, something lurking behind the hazel.  Something to be dreaded. 

She could hardly believe what had just happened, but she had no wish for a repeat.  The Doctor helped her to the door, peering out before she did to make sure that the coast was clear. 

“That was Dr. Jex,” he murmured.  “Nasty bloke, as you saw.  I’m so sorry, Melody.  I meant to come back and help you, but Amy told me you were safe.  I never thought—“

_“Safe?”_   Melody laughed brokenly.  “Nowhere in this place is safe, Doctor.  It amazes me how out of touch you all are.  You talk about this kind of thing casually, like it’s a common thing for human beings to do to one another.”

He glanced at her.  “Isn’t it?” 

Melody could only sigh and shake her head.  Electricity was failing in some parts of the medical ward as well, but she took advantage of this and used it to hide her whenever Jex came prowling.  He seemed to have forgotten all about her, paying more attention to his other patients than to her.  There was moment when he passed not three inches from where she was hiding and holding her breath, but other than that she hadn’t had too many close calls. 

She and the Doctor made it to the lift unscathed. 

Melody slumped against the wall as it began to sink, examining the stumps on her hands more closely now.  The bones of her fingers protruded past where the skin ended, but the blood flow had slowed to a sluggish leakage.  Unable to look at them any longer, Melody deliberately let her hands drop to her sides.  The Doctor was standing on her left, his shoulder brushing hers.  It didn’t escape her notice that he was glancing at her frequently, double-checking that she was still there. 

“Why do you keep helping me?” she asked him, unable to keep the exhaustion from bleeding into her voice.  _I just want to go home._

The Doctor stared at her for a few moments, his gaze boring into hers.  When he moved, he moved slowly, giving her a chance to pull away from him, but something about him seemed magnetizing to her.  He was soon in front of her, crowding her personal space as he greedily drank in the sight of her.  Melody felt her breath stutter; no one had ever _looked_ at her that way before. 

His hands were pressed into the wall on either side of her head, trapping her.  “Don’t you know?” he breathed, his mouth maybe inches from hers. 

Melody didn’t have time to respond before he was kissing her aggressively, forcing her mouth open with relative ease.  His tongue moved with long, langorous strokes against hers, and she found herself responding fiercely.  God, how many hands did he _have_ — they seemed to be everywhere at once, each touch burning her skin and adding to the heat that was already pooling in her center. 

The man might’ve been insane, but he knew what he was doing.

She pushed her hips up into his, eliciting a strangled noise from the back of his throat.  The way he smirked into her mouth, however, said that he wasn’t that surprised by her reaction, and she gasped a little when he moved a hand from her hair to the underside of her breast.  She shivered, a large part of her wishing he would move his hand lower, where she _really_ wanted him. 

It was that thought that snapped her out of it, shoving him away from her and trying to suppress the throbbing she now felt.  He didn’t seem at all perturbed by the problem that he was clearly having in his pants, staring at her with dilated pupils. 

Melody attempted to speak with a steady voice.  “All you want in return for saving a girl’s life is a shag?  Not very romantic.”  Damn if her body didn’t want her to, though.  Now it looked as though she was going to die sexually frustrated on top of being claustrophobic and half-mad because of what this place had done to her. 

“Melody, you don’t know what I see when I look at you,” he said. 

_An old woman who should probably start planning for retirement,_ she thought.  Out loud she replied, “Sweetie, you’re what— twelve?  You’re so…” she searched for the right word, but ‘innocent’ was incorrect, “young.”

“I’m really not, Miss Malone.”

Melody raised an eyebrow at him, though she wasn’t sure if it was for the way he addressed or because the lift had halted ages ago and he was making no move towards the exit.  She strode past him, emerging back in the main lobby where there was (thankfully) more light once again.  The familiar pool of blood near the front desk was almost a welcoming sight. 

“There you are!”

Amy ran over from one of the adjacent hallways, making Melody groan inwardly.  “Thank goodness— we were so worried when we couldn’t find you back where we left you.  That damn Dr. Jex should know better than to cross me by now.”  Her dark scowl was more frightening than it should’ve been. 

“Amy, listen,” Melody started, suddenly remembering the file in her jacket.  “I know what they—“

But Amy no longer seemed to be paying her any attention, looking to her right.  “Outside?  Are you sure?  She’s been saying that she wants to leave.  Oh, the back garden.  Yes, that should do.  Probably.”

Rory shot out of the hall after Amy, looking like a spooked mouse. 

“Jack’s coming,” he gasped. 

Amy swore.  “You need to go outside, in the back garden,” she instructed Melody quickly.  “I’m sorry.  I can’t help you any more than that.”

“Wait—“  But Amy was already running for it, for the first time looking well and truly afraid of something.  Melody made to hurry into the same computer room she’d been in before to hide, but not before Rory grabbed her arm.  She was seconds away from clobbering him, but she paused when she got a good look at his eyes: they were clear, more clear than she’d ever seen them before. 

“Beware the Valeyard,” was all he said. 

_Beware the what?_

Then the Doctor was dragging her into the shadows with him, hiding her as he had so many times before.  They watched as Jack ambled into the lobby, his head swinging from one side to another as he inspected the large room.  He managed to look even more messed up in the light, though he was no less ominous for it.  Eventually, he seemed to give up and went back down another hallway. 

“The back garden,” Melody said, once she was certain that he’d gone.  “We’d better get moving.”

***

Sometime during her journey to find a way outside, the Doctor disappeared again.  Melody gave up on paying him any mind; he seemed to come and go as he pleased.  It was probably how he survived without a scratch on him in this godforsaken place.  Of course, it was raining by the time she emerged outdoors, but the fresh air and the open space was an immense relief.  She could see no sign of Amy; whatever the reason she’d been sent here, it hadn’t been to meet with the redhead. 

Using the night vision on her camera, she found her way to the gazebo, but just as she made it there a grumbling reached her ears.  Oodles of curse words bounced around in Melody’s skull as she searched for a place to hide, recognizing Captain Jack’s constant monologue of, ‘Have to find her, have to contain it’.  She still hadn’t the faintest idea of what ‘it’ was; the file regarding Jack had given her no clues. 

She didn’t know what was with the bastard.  She couldn’t seem to shake him, no matter where in Demon’s Run she went.  He was obviously on the other side in the strange war that the inmates appeared to have raging, because Amy was frightened by him.  Did that mean that he was allied with Dr. Jex?  Melody shivered at the thought of going back there, glancing down at her stubs again.  She was reminded that she needed to get treatment for them eventually, but that was the least of her worries at the moment. 

Melody wondered what she was doing here.  Clearly nothing was going to happen in the garden, and the entire area was fenced in with no weak spots that she could find.  Deciding it would probably be best to get back inside and as far away from Jack as possible, she began to creep back around the gazebo.  He was on the other side of the garden.  His eyes created small pinpricks in the night vision on the camcorder. 

She made sure to move quickly as she crossed the lawn, heading for a different door than the one she’d come through.  Thankfully he didn’t spot her.  She didn’t want to think about what would happen if he had. 

As Melody shut the door behind her, it suddenly struck her: where she’d heard the word ‘Valeyard’ before.  Or rather, she hadn’t heard it— she’d _seen_ it.  On one of the upper floors, written in blood, was the exact same message that Rory had told her: _Beware the Valeyard._ Not to mention her first meeting with Rory.  Also, now that she thought about it, she’d seen the name in Amy’s report, too.

_…suggests that the subject could possibly be suffering interference from the Valeyard as well, though no contact with John Smith has been made…_

Distractedly, Melody made her way through another set of doors when another sound reached her.  Almost at once, the hairs on her neck rose and she started shaking madly, like she couldn’t control herself.  The hall before her was pitch dark, so she raised the camcorder with hands that she could barely steady.  She could only identify the sound as a shriek before the picture on the tiny screen made itself completely clear to her—

Before she knew what she was doing, she was running, hell-bent, back the way she came.  She slammed the door behind her and tripped over herself in her haste to get away from it. 

“Melody!”

The Doctor sprinted for her, looking between her and the door that she’d just abused.  She rose to her feet and stumbled away from him before he could reach her.

“What the _hell_ was that?” she snapped, feeling like a cornered animal. 

“What was what?” he asked.  “Melody, you aren’t making any sense!”

“What’s really been going on in this place?” she hissed at him.  “Everything I’ve encountered here thus far has been human.  Not _humane,_ but bloody fucking _human,_ at least!  Whatever that thing was, that.  Was.  Not.  _Human!_ ”

A ghost?  A specter?  A monster?  It was like a picture of an x-ray, almost, except that face had been— that _face—_

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but she couldn’t seem to.  The minute it had approached, all of her instincts took over, screaming at her to run as fast as she could.  Not even Jack or the doctor had this kind of effect on her.  They were both horrible, but at the very least… she shuddered, looking back at that door.  She didn’t want to know what was behind it. 

“You met the Valeyard.”

Melody stared at the Doctor blankly for a few moments before throwing her head back and laughing. 

“Oh, so it all makes sense now, I suppose!” she exclaimed, her voice just on the edge of hysteria.  “’Beware the Valeyard.’  Well who wouldn’t want to stay away from the resident… whatever that thing was?  Is that what happened to the Van Baalen brothers, earlier?  They didn’t just walk away to their punishment, something _dragged_ them.  Oh, but let’s not forget how half of this asylum lives in _fear_ of it, while the other half appear to be fighting it with everything they have.  Maybe I ought to let Jack rip me apart now.”

“ _No!”_ the Doctor snarled.  It was more out of shock than anything else that Melody didn’t resist him when he grabbed her by her shoulders.  “No, you will not, Melody Malone!  You are going to live, even if I have to drag you around this building kicking and screaming.  And I can do it.  I _will_ do it.  You are mine.”

Those words brought her back out of her shock.  “I’m no one’s,” she hissed.  “I have _never_ been anyone’s.”

“Oh, is that so?”  He had a particularly ugly sneer on his face.  “Not even thirty or so years ago, when little River Song was the daughter of the CEO?  Not even when she huddled in that little dark room of hers, afraid that the walls were going to eat her one day?  ‘Don’t put me back in that room, please!  It’s gonna get me!  It’s gonna eat me!’”

His words were like a punch to the stomach.  Melody felt all the breath whoosh out of her lungs, feeling as though she were staring at him for the first time.  “You’re not real,” she breathed out, the words as dizzying as the revelation.  “You never have been.  That’s why no one ever notices you, that’s why you never hide when they come for me.  I’ve just dreamed you up, as… what?  A defense mechanism?”

The Doctor suddenly looked pained.  “Melody, please…”

_Go away, go away, go away, go away…_

Melody squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. 

No Doctor. 

She slumped against the wall, not even caring that there was dried blood beneath her.  The sudden silence was unnerving, but she forced herself to man up and open the door.  This time no specter rushed at her from the darkness and she was able to proceed, heading back to the front of the asylum.  She wondered if everyone who came here ended up hallucinating, or if maybe she wasn’t as sane as she once thought.  Still, her delusion had ended; it was time she finally got herself out of Demon’s Run. 

Somehow she ended up on the second floor, as opposed to the first.  She was about to take the stairs down when Rory came down from the third floor, looking even more nervous than usual.  Nervous, but also thrilled, as though he was a child eagerly waiting to go to the carnival, or something of that sort. 

“Hi,” he said.  “Could you just… come up here?  For a minute?”

“No.  I’m leaving.  For real this time.”

He moved a few paces closer before whispering, “You saw it, didn’t you?”

Melody paused and nodded.  She eyed him warily, wondering what demand he and Amy were going to make of her now. 

“Okay,” he muttered.  “Okay.  That’s what Amy wanted.  That’s good.”

Against her better judgment, Melody felt her curiosity growing again.  “Amy knows what it is?”

“Yes.”  For a moment, Rory seized up, looking like he was fighting to tell her something else, but he relaxed again.  “Please, just come upstairs.  It won’t take long, I promise.  Then Amy says you can go.”

Melody knew that she should’ve left.  She knew that she should have refused Rory’s request, that it would be safer for her, but she was overcome with curiosity to discover what it was that the odd couple wanted her to see.  So she followed him up to the third floor, where she was surprised to find many of the inmates in their rooms, calmer than she’d ever seen them.  None of them looked at her with hostility. 

Rory led her into what she realized was the asylum chapel, where Amy and what looked like her personal guard were waiting for them.  They all had blank looks on their faces, like they weren’t really there at all.  Melody wasn’t really surprised.  It was as though Amy had single-handedly drugged all of the inmates that she was controlling. 

“You saw it then?” Amy asked as they approached. 

“Yeah, I saw it,” Melody said.  “The Valeyard, whatever you call it.  I don’t think much of it.”

“Oh, please,” Amy scoffed.  She seemed to exchange nods with her invisible friend before looking back at Melody.  “Everyone has an opinion.  I wanted to know what you _do_ think.”

“It was terrifying.”

Amy continued to stare, like she expected more.  Melody huffed; what did she expect her to say?  Did she expect her to give her undying admiration for it?  The Valeyard had reduced her to something akin to a wild animal in less than a moment. 

She found herself looking back through her footage until she found the pivotal moment, when it had appeared and paused it.  She had to admit, when she wasn’t focused on how she’d been trembling afterwards, it was almost…

“Beautiful,” she murmured. 

“It’s her,” Amy said loudly.  When Melody looked up, startled, Amy was looking at her in wonder as though she were a goddess.  “It’s her, it’s _her,_ the one we’ve been looking for all this time, oh thank goodness!”  She rushed forward, pulling Melody into a tight hug.  Melody wrinkled her nose at the stench that rose off of Amy, like she was rotting from the inside out.  “Which means it’s also time for us to go.”

Melody stepped away carefully, blinking in confusion.  “Time for who to go?”

But Amy ignored her, stepping away from her and reaching out to Rory, who didn’t hesitate for a second to take her hands.  “Wait,” Melody continued, taking in her surroundings for the first time— and the fact that Amy and Rory seemed to be standing on a funeral pyre.  “What are you doing?”

“The lift’ll take you down to the exit,” Amy told her.  “Rory and me— we’re going to be free, finally.  Like he promised us we would be.  Light it!”

“No!” Melody shouted, but she could only watch, horrified, as one of the inmates stepped forward, holding a torch.  As if this was a signal of some kind, all of the inmates erupted into hoarse cries, even the ones that weren’t in the room.  All of Demon’s Run was shrieking, Amy and Rory were screaming (because the pain of burning was like nothing else), and Melody could do nothing except run as quickly as she possibly could, to get away from it all.  She didn’t want to smell Amy and Rory’s flesh as it burned.  The file in her jacket seemed to grow heavier even as she made it into the lift, slamming her hand on the button to take her downstairs. 

She really, really couldn’t take much more of this. 

***

Somebody hijacked the lift. 

Someone must have, because it only paused for a moment at the ground level before continuing to move down.  When Melody stepped out, it was into a sterile environment unlike any part of the asylum she’d been in before.  The rest had looked a bit older and more sophisticated, but now it looked like she was in some kind of factory or something.  There was no shortage of gore here, either, but she didn’t much like the way her footsteps echoed down the tunnels. 

She explored as far as she dared; she’d tried to get the lift to go back up, to no avail.  The tunnels seemed to wind on and on, revealing several labs where sickening experiments took place.  Melody lowered her camcorder, feeling a deep-seated ache vibrating from her stumps.  She really, really needed to get those treated soon.  They were probably already infected, bloody hell. 

As she turned down another, darker tunnel, she felt the same sense of need-to-fucking-run come over her.  She didn’t resist it, turning and all but parkouring over a barrel in her haste to get away from it.  “Shit!” she yelled aloud; it was coming, she knew it was, and she didn’t want to be there when it got to her. 

Doors ahead.  Doors were good.  Doors had stopped it last time.  Melody yanked them open.

“Little Song.”

She let out a strangled yell as she was lifted bodily from the ground for the second time that night by Jack Harkness, who flung her on the floor and loomed over her, the sickening, ever-present grin on his face.  “Nowhere to run this time.  Nowhere to—“

Melody scooted away as best as she could and did everything she could to not sob.

Whatever pain she expected didn’t come.

Without warning, Jack was the one who let out a hoarse shout as _something_ collided with him, knocking him to the floor as well.  Melody scrambled away as quickly as she could, staring in half-fascination, half-fear as Jack was flung against the wall, repeatedly.  Blood began leaking out of his skull from the impacts.  Not even thinking of what she was doing, Melody raised her camcorder in time to see a black, blurred shape pounce on him through the lens.  He was lifted for what she instinctively knew to be the last time, grasping at his own throat as he choked.

Then the Valeyard flung him against a nearby vent, so violently that his body was _shredded._

Melody felt blood hit her face.  It was warm and sticky, but she barely noticed it.  It was like her mind was overcome by static.  She was much more preoccupied with the fact that the Valeyard had just _saved_ her, rather than killing her as she’d expected.  She was surprisingly steady on her feet as she rose up.  Something wasn’t right (well, apart from all the insane people and the ghosts).  Something was still missing from the whole picture. 

With even more caution than before, Melody made her way through the facility, recording everything that she saw.  Eventually she thought she heard a voice in one of the rooms.  Her heart beating faster than before, she hurried in. 

“Hello, River,” it said. 

She almost fled out of pure impulse, but she forced herself to stay put.  She’d stopped fearing this particular demon some time ago.

“Kovarian,” she said steadily.  “That isn’t my name.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find you in the middle of all this.”

“Oh, at the very center,” sighed the other woman, smirking at her.  “But then you never had any illusions about what we were really like, did you?”

She was separated from Melody by a wall of glass, and Melody felt a short surge of triumph when she realized that Kovarian was confined to a wheelchair.  Madame Kovarian had been the one in charge of River Song, the little girl who was the CEO’s daughter (supposedly).  Now she was reduced to someone who was far thinner than was healthy, and who couldn’t even walk on her own. 

“You see what happens when you try to play God, River?” said Kovarian tiredly.  “Nanotechnology had the potential to earn the Silence a fortune, especially if we created nanobots that could reproduce themselves using the human brain.  It… got a bit out of hand with one of our subjects, John Smith.  Poor boy seems to think I’m his mother.  It’s the only reason I’m still alive.”

Melody’s eyes narrowed.  She was recording as much of this as she could.  “The Valeyard is nanotechnology gone wrong?  Does Amy have something to do with this?”

“Yes, I observed your meetings with Amelia Pond with interest,” said Kovarian.  “She has everything to do with this.  When she first came to us it appeared that her delusions were simply hallucinations of an imaginary friend.  However, after one of the scientists convinced us to bring her down here for testing, we discovered that she was, in fact, communicating with the Valeyard.  His influence was spreading.  That was when everything started to go wrong.”

Melody almost couldn’t believe it.  “That’s not possible.”  She shivered slightly.  The whole time— whenever it had looked like Amy was talking to thin air— the Valeyard had been _there._ No wonder Rory was always so nervous.  No wonder the inmates were all afraid of Amy. 

“The Valeyard is more subtle than his true form would suggest.  No one would have connected it to the Raggedy Doctor that Amelia Pond kept ranting about.”

Melody jolted at those words.  “The what?  The Raggedy what?”

“That doesn’t matter now,” said Kovarian.  “Melody, I know you hate me.  I know you despise the Silence with all of your being.  But I right now I need your help to save this whole country— probably the whole planet.”

She scoffed.  “Please.”

“It’s the truth!”  For the first time, Kovarian actually looked desperate.  “No one can leave this asylum, or the Valeyard will get out.  Once it gets out, it will keep spreading and spreading until everyone is affected.  It only knows violence.  The world will fall apart in a matter of weeks.  I can’t leave this room, it doesn’t like it when I do.  But you can destroy it.  You want to leave as much as anyone does.  If you help me destroy the Valeyard, you’re home free, I swear it.”

Melody let out a long breath.  She didn’t want to do anything to help Kovarian ever again, but what choice did she have?  It would be no use escaping from Demon’s Run if what she was running from was only going to catch up to her again. 

“What do I have to do?”

Kovarian sat up straighter.  “The patient from which the Valeyard first originated— John Smith— has been near-death for years.  He’s on life support, deeper in the facility.  He’s the one who is controlling the Valeyard subconsciously.  If you turn off his life support, it should be enough to finish the Valeyard as well.”

Melody nodded.  Something made her pause for a moment, though.  “You’re really going to let me go?  You’ve been watching me, you must know how much I’ve been recording.”

Kovarian looked her straight in the eye.  “Yes.”

Well, there was nothing for it.  Even if Kovarian was lying, Melody didn’t have any other choice.  At that point, she would’ve given up her camera to get herself out of that hellhole. 

“Down the tunnel to the right,” called Kovarian.  “Oh, and Melody?  The Valeyard will almost certainly try to kill you.”

“Noted,” replied Melody.

She didn’t encounter anything on her way there, though.  Even when she got to the room that housed John Smith, she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.  Just a man (barely a man) in a pod, hooked up to tons of wires.  He looked as though he was in hibernation.  Melody felt a brief stab of pity for him.  He didn’t deserve what had been done to him all through this, but the nightmare needed to be destroyed.  Melody could feel a weariness settling into her bones, and realized that she was perhaps moments away from collapsing. 

“Right,” she muttered to herself.  “Where is this thing…?”

“I wish you wouldn’t look for it,” said the Doctor.

Melody closed her eyes.  _Not this.  Not now._

“Valeyard,” she said softly.  He looked the same as he always had, with his tweed and bowtie.  He was watching her with sadness in his hazel eyes, just a few feet away from her.  “Or maybe I ought to call you John?  I hardly know anymore.”

“No,” he whispered fiercely, moving over to her and taking her face in his hands.  “The Doctor.  I’m the Doctor, to you.  Please say it.  I saved your life.  I’ve been saving your life ever since you got here!”

“And how many people did you kill before I got here?” she asked him.  “How many more will you kill if I let you out?  How many people will suffer the same way Amy did before they commit suicide, too?”

“But _you’ll_ be safe,” he said.  “I promise.  You’ll always be safe.”

“I don’t care,” Melody replied.  Completely honest.  Completely blunt.  Her stumps were sore, she was sore, she was exhausted.  It needed to end. 

“I’m going to kill you if you do this, you know.”

“I’m sure you’ll try.  But at least if I’m dead you won’t be getting out anytime soon.”

It was hard to reconcile the young man who had helped her time and time again with the specter that ripped Jack apart.  It was hard to believe that he was casually saying he was going to do the same to her, as though he was mentioning that he planned on redecorating his room, or something like that.  She supposed that this was, technically, his room, and he’d be decorating it with her corpse.  Lovely.

“You’re obviously an intelligent being,” she stated carefully.  “Surely you know by now that killing isn’t your only option.”

_Trying to reason with it is obviously not going to work, idiot,_ she chastised herself, but she had to try. 

“Melody,” he sighed.  “I liked you better when you treated me like a person.  Like a human being.  Not some… creature.”

“I saw what you did!” she shouted, suddenly unable to take it.  She couldn’t stand his ‘wounded puppy’ routine when she knew full well what he was capable of.  “I saw you rip Jack apart—“

“I saved you!” he yelled, his grip on her face suddenly tightening.  “He was going to _kill_ you!”

“To stop you.”  Melody pulled herself away from him, backing away to where she noticed the life support controls were.  The Doctor— no, the Valeyard— didn’t seem to realize what she was doing, even though he must’ve known what she was there for.  The realization was hitting her even now; all of Jack’s muttering made sense.  “He was trying to stop me from escaping so that you wouldn’t get out.  And now that I know what I know… after what you did to Amy, why would I ever, _ever_ let you out?”

Her hands fumbled with buttons, switches, but she made sure to keep direct eye contact with him.  For whatever reason he found her fascinating, and she was going to use that to her advantage for as long as she possibly could.  He looked forlorn, lost.  Melody knew, though, how cruel he could be, remembering his words to her when she convinced herself that he was just a vision she was having; her own brain’s survival instinct awakening in the form of someone who helped her to get through this mess. 

“They made us both, Melody,” he said quietly.  “ _River.”_

It was that, more than anything else, that made Melody decide to end it. 

She whirled and slammed her hand down on the largest, most obtrusive button she could find (it was big, it was red; honestly, what was she supposed to do?).  Alarms went off as the man in the life support pod starting to writhe, though whether it was in pain or because of his death throes, Melody didn’t know.  She apologized silently to him, before turning around.  She was unsurprised to find that the Doctor was no longer present. 

Feeling like a great weight had been lifted from her chest, Melody began to take her first steps towards finally leaving, when something collided with her. 

The next few moments were a blur of panic, and choked screams that she was sure were her own as (for the third time since her arrival at Demon’s Run) she was lifted bodily in the air.  She found herself staring into the skeletal face of the Valeyard, and at the same time felt as though some kind of sludge was filling up her lungs even as she struggled to breathe. 

“No—“ she gasped out.  “No, she said it would—“

_Melody._ The voice was familiar, and gentle and tender.  What terrified her was that it came from within her.  _You know better than to believe everything Madame Kovarian tells you.  You know that that woman is full of lies._

Of course she knew that, but for once she’d thought it was a universal truth.

_This was always the plan.  It’s better this way, don’t you see?_

No it wasn’t.  How was this better?  She could feel it in her, moving with her, could feel the friction of its presence in every flex of her muscles, in every breath she drew.  When the Valeyard finally released her, letting her fall to the ground, she cried out in agony, though it was not agony from hitting the ground. 

_You’re hurting me._

_No, I’m not.  Look, nothing broke.  See?  I promise you, nothing broke._

_Let me go._

_I don’t want to do that, and I don’t think you do either.  How long have you been looking, Melody?  For somewhere to belong, ever since you ran away from them.  You’ve found it now.  We’re the same, you and I._

If Melody could have protested vocally, she would have.  But she barely had enough energy to move her fingers, much less speak aloud.  The Doctor was crouching beside her now, helping her up and making sure she stayed on her feet.  She no longer had the will to resist him, probably because it was hard to resist someone who had claimed you in the way he had.  He murmured comfort into her ear as he helped her to the exit, his lips brushing her ear.  A part of Melody’s mind registered that she had to stop him, had to find some way of dying so that he didn’t go outside. 

She found her answer when Kovarian found her.

“Shoot her,” said Kovarian, her voice just as cold as it had been when she ordered Melody locked in that room, all those years ago.  Melody stared at the barrels on the guns that the soldiers held.  She barely even felt the first bullet hit her chest, dimly aware of an undercurrent of rage that was not her own.  Even though she wasn’t surprised— she knew that Kovarian was never going to let her leave with the footage— there was no stopping the profound sense of betrayal, or the old childhood resentment towards her captors.  Vermin, the lot of them.  The Hollow Men of the corporate world. 

_What does that make you?_ she asked herself. 

“Melody, Melody,” gasped the Doctor as she went down, feeling warmth spread across her chest.  “Please, no.  Please.  We have always hated them, remember?  It’s like it’s our bloody job to hate them.”  She distantly thought it was nice, to be held like this upon her death, when all her life she’d been so sure she’d die alone.  The Doctor’s arms were around her from behind, and he buried his face in her hair. 

“I can save you again,” he promised desperately.  “Just tell me.  Just _let_ me.”

“Dear god,” Kovarian whispered above her.  Melody looked up into that vile face— a face that had been in her nightmares for years.  “It’s you.  It’s made you into its new host.  How poetic.”

Melody’s hatred coiled inside her, like a snake ready to strike.  These people had taken her entire life away from her.  No more of that.  No more. 

_Kill them all,_ she thought. 

Into the back of her neck, she felt the Doctor smile.


End file.
